


Stanley Uris Takes a Bath

by angeldenbrough



Series: bill & stanley being married and in love [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Bottom Bill Denbrough, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Slice of Life, Stanley Uris Has OCD, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Stanley Uris, au?? not rly though stans just alive, best husbands ever!! they’re so in love!!, this ones for the bottom!bill community
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23958445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeldenbrough/pseuds/angeldenbrough
Summary: stanley uris takes a bath;but instead he and his husband bill are tender and in love and comfort each other after a stressful day. and as far as i’m concerned, this is the canon version c:
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris
Series: bill & stanley being married and in love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2071824
Comments: 9
Kudos: 60





	Stanley Uris Takes a Bath

**Author's Note:**

> just a lil something i wrote instead of working on my actual assignments. something short to hold you over while i work on something longer i hope to post soon. and yes, as far as i’m concerned, anything under 10k is short lol
> 
> stenbrough nation this ones for you!!  
> if mfs don’t stop flooding the stanley uris/ bill denbrough tag w stories that aren’t even about them i s2g!!!!! 
> 
> also, a.n- if you haven’t read the book, Bill learned french in high school during speech therapy to try to get rid of his stutter ^^, very under appreciated fact so i’ll take it and run with it since no one else does

Stanley had decided he was going to run a bath for himself. It was late, but not too late, the best time to take one. He had told his partner so as he got up from their kitchen table, ruffling his boyfriends disheveled hair as he walked by. Bill smiled, and looked up to watch him leave; his gaze immediately back to his laptop screen as he typed out the story he was working on. Even though they had known each other for years, Stan never lost his enthusiasm for Bill’s writing. He remembered fondly Bill telling him stories when they would hang out, and remembered the butterflies he would get in his stomach when Bill would hand him a stack of torn and crumpled lined papers saying, “I-I been w-working on a n-n-new story, I-I wanted tuh-tuh-to show it to y-you first, I really h-hope you like it, S-St-Stanley,”, not remembering quite as fondly Richie pointing out his blush whenever that would happen. He sat with him while he wrote a lot, and Bill would always ask him for his opinion on things, and show off a chapter he was proud of, and Stan thought it was always so adorable when Bill would look away as he read it; holding onto a bit of innocence and nervousness from when they were kids. And he would blush whenever Stan complimented it, even though he always did. He would let Stan name some of his characters, too. Stanley was his muse, and he always felt creative around him. Which Stanley had a hard time believing, but he took his word for it. He didn’t see himself as the creative type at all whatsoever, so it always stunned him that someone with such a creativity about him drew inspiration from him. Nonetheless, “To my husband, Stanley. Thank you for all the love and inspiration you always give me” was what every dedication in his best selling books read. And he’d always let Stanley read his books before he even thought about sending them off to a publisher, “As long as you like them, that’s all that matters to me,” He’d always say, sweetly.

Stan walked down the hallway, and entered their bedroom in the home they shared. He walked through their room to the ensuite bathroom attached to their bedroom. They had a big, beautiful house in the Atlanta suburbs, but their love made it a home. And that’s the only thing that mattered to them anyways. Whenever they’d have someone over, and they would compliment their house, “We do okay,” Stanley would always say, and quickly switch the conversation to something, anything else. They did a lot better than okay. Stan closed the door behind him, and sighed a sigh of relief. The day was finally ending, and he was glad that it was. It was a busy day at the office, and truth be told, math gets boring sometimes (even for an accountant). He undid the buttons on his dress shirt and let the fabric hit the floor, and slid out of his jeans and dress pants. Folding them carefully on the bathroom counter, making sure they never wrinkled. He took his kippah off with steady hands, and placed it in the middle of the pile of neatly folded clothes. He looked at himself in the mirror. He needed to shave soon, he thought. Bill hated the feeling of beard burn against his thighs, and laughed to himself at that thought. He washed his hands three times before he ran his bath, yes, even though he was going to have a bath. He always washed his hands, three, and never wavered on that. Excessive hand washing was one of the ways he coped with his OCD, that only manifested more prominently as he got older. It was one of the little tendencies that made Stanley, Stanley. The completion of it eased his mind a bit already. He turned on the faucet in the tub and looked in the top drawer of their cabinets, and felt a smile of satisfaction creep on his face when he found it. He dropped a blue bath bomb in the shape of an egg inside the tub, Bill had gotten those for him for Christmas. He liked to get him small things, because he always felt so guilty dragging him to family christmas parties and gatherings (or the loser’s annual christmas party), so he thought getting him small things would make up for it, at least a little bit. And Stanley would always laugh and reassure him he didn’t need to do that, and Bill would kiss him and agree. But still get him things the next year. Bill insisted they celebrate Hanukkah at their house during that time of year. And he’d show off their menorah with pride whenever someone came over. Bill would watch him make traditional foods in the kitchen, that he learned to make from his mother. He’d watch him fondly, and get him to show him bits and pieces of how to do things; falling in love with him more and more. It was different than all the other times they’d cooked together- or rather, tried to cook together. Usually whenever they tried to cook or bake, it wasn’t at all productive. Usually that would end up in Bill making a mess, on purpose, “I made a big mess, Stanley... and I know you hate m-messes...” He’d say seductively. (And Stan would clean the mess up, usually by licking whatever Bill spilled on himself off of his body, and spanking him with a spatula for being such a bad boy). But, whenever they cooked around Hanukkah, it was special. It was tender. They actually made something, besides a mess (of both themselves, and their kitchen counters). Stanley smiled fondly at those memories as he watched the bath bomb fizzle out, giving the water a more iridescent sheen to it. He ran his hand underneath it to make sure it wasn’t too hot, and got inside. 

But Bill, quickly grew lonelier by himself, as he waited for the sound of the water turning on in the bathroom, and waiting for the sound of the water turning off again, and then the sound of the water going down the drain and through the pipes. Which meant he would be done, and he would sit with him again. And they could have a lazy evening together, their favourite part of the day. Bill would put on a classical record that Stanley loved so much, and watch him do one of the bird puzzles he loved so much with deep and tender devotion as he did so. And he’d pour two glasses of white wine for the two of them, and Stanley would tell Bill all about the bird his puzzle pieces made up, and he’d listen intently to every word. Loving the sound of Stanley’s voice on any given occasion, but loving it the most when he talked about something he was passionate about. And Stanley would kiss him, and thank him for being so good to him. Then they could cuddle by the fire and Stanley could watch him write, as they both loved to do late at night. But tonight, Bill didn’t feel like waiting as he usually did. He walked up the stairs, careful to avoid the ones that creaked when you stepped on them the wrong way. He walked through the halls of their house, taking a moment to glance at all the pictures that hung on the walls; something he didn’t always have time to do in his busy daily life. He passed by their wedding photos, a group photo of their friend group as kids framed together with a picture of them all as adults, photos from Richie and Eddie’s wedding, photos from all of the chaotic couples vacations they’d taken with Richie and Eddie, and a framed love letter Bill had written to Stanley in college (a letter he pretended to be embarrassed by whenever Stanley showed it off to someone, which was often. But was more so enamoured with the fact Stanley had kept it all these years). Finally reaching his destination, and stood in front of the bathroom door. A delicate hand knocking at the door stirred him from his lull, “Stan?,” the voice called, Stanley laughed fondly at this, Bill knocked quietly, as to not startle him. “‘S open, Bill,” Stanley told him. Bill opened the door. Stanley smiled warmly at him. Bill blushed, which Stanley found absolutely adorable. “You should know better than to knock when you know I’m in the bath,” He said with a laugh, “You know you’re always welcome to join me,” He said with a suggestive flirt to his voice. And Bill blushed harder at that comment, because he had joined, a lot. Memories of Stanley taking him on the counter, making him beg for it on the bathroom floor, and pinning him to the tiled shower walls danced in his head for a brief moment as their conversation lulled for a second. “I know t-that, Stan,” He replied with a giggle. Bill toyed with the worn purple sleeves of the NYU School of finance hoodie Stan had given him in college during exam season when he was busy studying, and Stan thought it was so cute he held onto it, and still wore it all the time after all these years. Because, Bill was still madly in love with him; and that love had never faded or wavered. After long trips, when Bill would be away on book tours, or away writing scripts that would turn into movies or plays- and then supervising the productions of those movies and plays. He would always bring that hoodie wherever his job took him, because it smelt like home- it smelled like Stanley. Bill took of his sweater for the captivated audience that didn’t take his eyes off him, and the writer in Bill wondered if it could be considered an audience if it was only one person. And he supposed it could, and it did in this case- because Stan’s gaze had the intensity of a crowd. Bill slipped out of his jeans too, and folded his clothes in a pile that was almost as neat as Stan’s and placed them next to his clothes. He knew Stanley wouldn’t be able to relax if hadn’t. There wasn’t a manual titled, “How to care for your partner with severe OCD” but Bill did a pretty good job nonetheless. 

Stanley held out his hand and Bill took it so he wouldn’t slip as he got it. He sat down slowly, and Stan shifted his legs to make room for him, and Bill sat between them. Stan was still holding Bill’s hand, tracing the scar from the cuts from the promise they had all made so long ago. His wedding ring caught the light of the bathroom light, and the metal of it gleamed. That would never get old, Stanley’s heart swelled every single time. Bill sighed at his lovers touch. His shoulders released some of their tension, Stanley relaxed him. “Tough day too?” Stanley questioned, and Bill nodded, “R-really bad writers block,” Bill’s stutter was mostly gone, and Stanley was beyond proud of him for that. All those long speech therapy classes, and hours spent practicing french to try to counteract it paid off. (The french that came in handy during their trip to Paris for their one year wedding anniversary). But it still came back, every now and again. Stanley always thought that’s why he liked writing so much, because he could finally get down everything he wanted to say without any limitations. “‘S okay, I know you’ll get past it soon,” He offered his words of encouragement but they didn’t do anything to make Bill feel any better. Stanley could sense he still had a lot of uneasiness, he peppered kisses on the back of his neck to calm him down, at least a little bit. “I know I w-will, eventually. The deadlines from my publisher are just s-stressing me out, you know?” And Stanley nodded in understanding. Bill had complained about his publishers and their deadlines more than once, but Stan would always try to work it into a positive, “That’s a good thing though, right? It just means your books are really good and successful and that lots of people want more from you!! It wouldn’t be good if your publishers weren’t in any rush to get new material from you, right?” He said with a big smile on his face, and Bill just laughed, and kissed him on his forehead for trying to make him feel better. 

“Don’t worry about deadlines, for right now at least, okay? Relax,” He mused calmly, his voice slow. In no rush to finish, in no rush to find a point. Bill leaned back against Stanley’s chest and kissed his neck softly, “Help me to relax...” He replied softly, his voice slowing down to match Stanley’s easy speech. Stanley got a bit of water in his hands and gently poured it over Bill to wet his hair. He got the bottle of shampoo nearest where they sat, and got some into his hands and lathered it in his palms. He worked it into his hair. Bill had to admit, it felt nice. He loved it when Stan took care of him like this. “How was your day?” Stanley asked again, and Bill laughed, “Already told you. Stressful,” and Stanley sighed, “Well, it couldn’t have all been stressful. Tell me at least three good things that happened today,” Stanley often did this to help rationalize things for Bill, and to elevate the sense of impending doom- if he couldn’t do that for himself without the help of prozac, he might as well be able to do that for his husband, right? Bill thought for a moment, but answered him to humour him. “Well, I woke up before you today, before you got a chance fix your messy bedhead. Which was really cute to see. So I guess that’s one. Two... well, you did a bit more than kiss me good bye when you left for work this morning, that was really nice. (Winking as he said this, and Stanley remembered exactly what he was talking about- fondly.) Three, you brought home takeout from my favourite italian place when you came home from work, that was good. And, I guess you’re right because I can think of a fourth thing- right now. But I saved the best for last cause this is the best part of my day so far.” He said sincerely. Stanley listened to him as he listed things, and he smiled at the realization he was in all of those stories, “Was I the best part of your day?” He questioned with a sincere smile, and Bill nodded, looking a bit ridiculous with all the suds still in his hair, “Mhmmm, you usually are, though,” smiling at his own sweet sentiment. “I’m very lucky that you love me so much,” Stanley said softly, washing the sweet smelling shampoo from his auburn hair. “I’m even luckier to be able to love you,” Bill replied, even sweeter. “What about you, how was your day?” Bill asked, and Stan laughed out of sheer exhaustion. “Tiring, boring. Mostly just counting down the minutes until I came home to you, Bill,” He answered, “Well, you are an accountant. Counting shouldn’t be too hard for you,” Bill jokes back, and Stan let out a tired chuckle. Bill continued with his reply, “What a coincidence, though. I spent most of my day today counting down the minutes until you came home,”, absentmindedly trailing his fingers down Stanley’s thighs that he lay between. “You miss me when I go to work?” Stan mused, shivers down his spine at his lover’s gentle touches. “Of course I do. This house isn’t the same without you,” Stanley didn’t reply, but he kissed the back of Bill’s neck as a reply, letting that say all he needed to. Bill’s heart fluttered at that small act of tenderness, as if that was the first time Stan ever did so. Stan trailed his lips from the back of his neck to his ears. He sucked on the spot behind his ears that always got Bill so hot and bothered. And as always, he moaned loudly at that; and his touches got daringly close to Stanley’s hardening member as he got louder. Stan quietly groaned as Bill continued, working conditioner in Bill’s hair. It felt really nice, this was helping him to relax. “Didn’t you just do that?” Bill asked, relaxing even more into his touch, trying to keep his noises at bay. Stanley rolled his eyed, though Bill couldn’t see. “It’s conditioner, babe.” He replied obviously, Bill splashed him, “Hey!! Don’t ‘babe’ me, I’m tired and stressed out. Excuse me if I’m a bit out of it,” and Stanley laughed, “Fair enough,” He answered simply. Stanley rested his head on Bill’s shoulder, his cool breath ghosted over his hot skin and it felt nice, it felt soothing. It felt soothing just to know he was there. He kissed the skin that was closest to him, biting at the skin there too. He nipped at the fading purple of a love bite from a couple nights ago; giving it new, colour. Bill’s hand never left his thigh as he did so. Stanley breathed in the scent of his lover, he smelt clean, and he smelt like a scent that was all his own. Stanley was intoxicated by it, and still got his heart beating as if they were still teenagers. Bill let out a low, murmured moan at the feeling of his lips on his skin and his hands in his hair. “Feel nice?” Stanley asked against his skin, smirk on his lips because he could tell the answer was already. Bill nodded, “Really nice,” and Stan felt accomplished. “Good,” replying as he washed the conditioner from his hair. Bill felt worlds better, his deadlines out of his mind, all he was thinking about was Stan. And if it was up to him, he’d be all he’d ever think about. 

Bill turned around, and kissed him suddenly. Stanley kissed back, even though he was a bit taken aback. Their kiss was sweet and passionate, but slow. They were in no hurry, and were the happiest they’d been all day. They were in the best company imaginable; each other’s. Stanley licked at Bill’s bottom lip, nipping at it hazily with his teeth. He pushed his tongue past Bill’s lips as he parted them. Bill wrapped his arms around Stan’s neck and pulled them that much closer. Their breaths ghosted ghosted over each other’s lips. Their tongues exploring each other’s mouths as they’ve done so many times before. Never getting tired of it though. He savoured the taste of his lover as their tongues touched. Bill traced patterns on Stan’s chest as his hand left his neck and touched him. Bill pulled away from him, “Your turn,” he whispered, pressing their foreheads together, looking into each other’s eyes. There was nothing but love in their gazes. As Stanley looked in Bill’s beautiful blue eyes, and he looked in his beautiful brown ones, they completely forgot about their bad days. All that mattered was that moment together. He poured a bit of water over his hair. Stan’s curly bangs clung to his forehead, and Bill couldn’t help but smile, he always looked a bit like a wet dog when he got his hair wet- in a cute way. “What’s so funny?” Stan asked, more of his curls falling into his eyes, “You look like a wet labradoodle,” Bill laughed, and Stanley laughed too. “Do I now?” He asked, and took suds from the water into his cupped hands and blew them into Bill’s face. “You’re so dumb...” Bill said, coughing as he laughed again, doing the same to Stan, laughing harder when Stan wiped the soap bubbles off of his face. “Maybe you’re the dumb one for marrying me, ever think about that?” Stanley retorted, finally slicking his hair back with water and getting his wet hair out of his eyes. “Maybe you’re right,” Bill smiled fondly at him now, he could see his beautiful eyes again. If you asked Bill, what his favourite things about Stan were; he would honestly not know where to start. But, his brown eyes that sparkled when the light hit them just right, and had subtle gold flecks them if you looked long enough- would definitely be on that list. He ran his fingers through his wet hair, “You look so handsome with your hair slicked back.. why don’t you wear it like this more often,” Bill said softly, tracing patterns on his chest again as he spoke. “First I look like a labradoodle, now I’m handsome... make your mind up,” And let out a soft laugh, his breath hitched and tone was a bit shaky. His hushed tone and gentle touches invigorated him. “So handsome like this...” He said faintly against his lips, kissing him softly and briefly. He did the same for him, and lathered shampoo into his hair, and washed it out, and repeated that once more. “Thank you...” Stanley said, kissing the side of his face as Bill worked the sweet smelling shampoo in his hair a second time, “Anything for you,” He cooed in reply. He knew Stanley and he knew his routine, he did most things related to cleanliness in twos. When he said anything for him, he meant that. Marriage was through sickness and in health, and sometimes part of that deal was not telling your husband washing your hair twice wasn’t actually that good for your hair. He sighed heavily, and hummed at the feeling of Bill’s hands massaging conditioner into his hair and washing it all out thoroughly to make sure Stanley felt clean. “Bill...” He murmured against the skin of his neck. He raked his teeth against the soft skin there, kissing him softly there in contrast, “I love you,” His voice was as smooth as velvet as he spoke. “Stanley.... please,” purred in a soft tone. “Please what?” Stan teased, pretending to be completely oblivious. As if he didn’t notice Bill’s painfully hard erection pressed up against his thigh as they spoke. He couldn’t help it though, he loved how quickly Bill came undone, completely unraveled. “Fuck me... fuck me hard Stanley... please. Oh god, I’ve had such a long day I need you so bad...” Stan groaned at Bill’s plea. Bill’s plea was that of arousing submission and desperation; but also a reminder to Stan that he wasn’t gonna put up with any teasing tonight. Bill had a funny way of doing that sometimes after long days, even though those two frames of mind were totally different. “N-no foreplay. I need you... I need you in me..” Bill groaned, kissing him desperately. Stanley felt stupid, how could he have forgotten the best stress relief of all. 

“You should’ve just said so baby...” Stanley teased him, and Bill bit his lip. He bit his lip to suppress a moan and a sarcastic comment. He was so ready for him. He grabbed the shampoo bottle Bill had said aside, he squeezed some into his two fingers. He worked it into his needy hole and Bill couldn’t even try to contain his moans. Stanley worked it for a bit until he was sure he was good and ready to be fucked, and until he couldn’t take looking at Bill pant desperately. His cock ached at each moan that escaped his lips. “I’ve been waiting for this all fucking day.” Stan said as he guided Bill to the tip of his hard cock. Bill groaned, he loved the fact he occupied his thoughts, that he was something to look forward to. He couldn’t help but wonder if he had ever gotten hot and bothered at the thought of him, at his desk at work. Sure, they had done it there but, did he fantasize about him to pass the time? Bill whimpered because of Stanley’s tight, possessive grip on his hips, Bill’s hips straddling him now. Still loving the feeling of his hands on him, as giddy for it as if it were their first time. He bit his lip and slid down his cock until he bottomed out. “You still fucking amaze me... how you can take it all just like that,” “Oh Stan....” Bill said nothing more, he couldn’t think of anything left to say. All functioning brain power had been replaced with lurid, lust. Stanley’s thumbs traced circles into his thighs as he rode him. Heaven used to only be a word to him, a concept. He knew it now. He felt it in the form of his lovers gentle touches, his caresses against his skin as he fucked him. Stan’s lips found Bill’s nipples for a short stretch of time as Bill rode him. He took a bud between his teeth and bit it, Bill sighed with longing at the slight pain; the combination of his lover’s lips and hands on him and his cock in him was too much. Stanley thrust inside him relentlessly, getting deeper and deeper each time; hitting his prostate until he not only saw stars- but fucking constellations. Bill’s experienced hips rolled in time with Stan’s movements. Under any other circumstances, he would’ve thrust into him low and slowly, working him slowly until he begged to be fucked harder. But, Bill had a rough day, and he’d do anything to ease his stress. And he was more than sure Bill’s deadlines were the last thing on his mind now. He screamed and repeated Stanley’s name over and over again like it was something sacred. Bill was sure there were marks on his hips from the strong grip Stan had there, already looking forward to seeing them in the morning. Water splashed against Stan’s back as his thrusts became messier and sloppier, never slowing down though. He may have been loosing his rhythm, but never his pace. He was taking out the stress of his busy day on Bill, and Bill was more than happy to be the one he took it out on. Bill didn’t love when Stan had bad days at work; but he could see the silver lining in them. Stan was so much rougher, had a harshness to him the kind and soft spoken accountant rarely had. He loved to see Stanley all riled up, so he could make him feel better. They were good at making each other feel better that way. Stanley bit his collarbone with sharp, passion as his end was drawing near. Bill’s name poured from his lips as he came, releasing hot cum inside him and he moaned at the feeling. He knew he was close too. That feeling of being filled like that always got him every time. The feeling of Stanley’s cum spilling out his hole and down his thighs is what got him. Seeing Stanley in such a beautifully disheveled state with a look of carnal delight as present as ever on his handsome face got him too. He looked at Stanley through half lidded eyes, too tired to keep them open all the way, and thought to himself how lucky he was to have Stan all to himself. “Tellement jolie,” he mused to himself quietly. 

Sometimes, when Bill was flustered, overwhelmed or terribly, terribly aroused. The french he had mastered to correct his stutter would come spilling out to save face. He’d rather say it in french than say it with an inconclusive stutter. Now, was one of those times, “C-c'est incroyable!!” Bill shouted, “Tu es tellement incroyable....” Bill continued, his voice corrupted by lustful pants that were enough to make anyone’s brain short circuit upon hearing it. And Stan was no exception, even though he was the only cause as to why would ever Bill sound like that. Stanley didn’t last much longer after that, and Bill knew that he knew that. He was growing dizzy and he knew his climax was impending. He rocked himself against Stanley’s cock one last time, and Stanley took in the beautiful sight. The look of pure adoration in Stan’s eyes as he watched Bill approach his end was all it took. He arched his back and came hard, moaning loudly as he did so. The words that left his lips were indiscernible, but Stanley could make out some “Oh God”s and mentions of his own name if he listened closely. He clenched around Stan’s cock that was still inside of him as he came, Stan let out a mewl of satisfaction. Stan’s hands maintained their grip on Bill’s hips and steadied him as he came down from his high. He went limp after he came, falling into his boyfriends arms. He was tired, but finally over the slump of a stressful unproductive day. He was happy, sexually satisfied and at peace for the first time all day. “Stan...” He murmured, and Stanley swore his heart skipped a couple beats or so. He loved when he spoke like that, his voice raspy and tired; but so needy and full of love. Stan could listen to it all day, it was his favourite sound in the whole world. It melted his heart, it made him want to kiss him so hard their lungs would run out of air, and take care of him forever. “I’m right here Bill, I’ve got you...” And Bill smiled against Stanley’s chest, and hugged him tighter. Both because he loved his touch and having him close, but also because he was relying on him for support right now. He didn’t really have the strength (or will) to sit up straight by himself. That’s what his husband was for. Stanley loved to be the dominant one, to fuck him hard and make him his, but right after care for him as if he was made of gold, and as delicately as if he were glass. And Bill really enjoyed being submissive. It filled an important roll in both of their lives. Bill walked around like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders; so many people were dependant on him to be strong, have all the answers. So many people relied on him at work too, the actors who read his scripts, the directors and editors who relied on the movies based on his books to help pay their bills. With Stan, he wasn’t asked a million questions as to when his next book would be released, or who would play the main character in his next movie, or wether he liked the placement of the furniture in the background of a scene. With Stan, there were no questions because he already knew all the answers. He could just be, he had the freedom to just exist. He liked to not be in control, and being dominated by Stanley well and often satisfied that completely. He liked to be able to not know, he liked being the one taken care of; instead of caring for. He liked being treated like he was precious, because to Stanley he was above all else, precious. Their sex life fulfilled a need in Stan, too. It allowed him to step out of being soft spoken, shy bird watcher who did puzzles in his free time, and be someone who tied his partner up and made shivers go up his spine. Because in truth, he was both of those people- but nobody ever saw him as; or believed he was capable of being both. He was living proof of the old adage, “it’s always the quiet ones”, a cliche personified. But, Bill knew full well he was capable of being both; and that was more than enough for him. Stanley ran a soothing hand through Bill’s hair, and kissed his forehead. Bill wished they could stay like that forever. 

Bliss washed over them both, this was the perfect end to a not so perfect day. They were there for each other, and they had each other. Bill wished their lives weren’t as stressful and they could have this all the time. He sometimes wished that their childhoods hadn’t been so traumatic so they could have a normal origin story. They deserved this calm every day. This was a nice place, a calming place. Stress didn’t come to dwell here, nothing else mattered except them, and each other. Bill’s hushed breaths as he trembled, relishing in the aftermath of his high. Also relishing in the sweet praises of his lover as he held him, telling him he’s the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, and he’d bite his lip as he watched his cum drip down his thighs as he trembled. They looked at each other, and smiled. “I love you,” They said at the same time, and giggled at that. Stanley pressed their foreheads together, and ran a hand through Bill’s wet hair, “Jinx...” Bill whispered against his lips, “Can’t jinx under a roof,” Stanley whispered, still smiling- he was overtaken with love for him. They kissed, it was soft, and sweet. It was short too, but it felt better that way. It was sweeter in its brevity. 

Stan kissed his temple softly as he got a towel to dry himself off, doing this in threes as well. Three was a good number, it was his favourite number; and Bill never questioned his fixation on that number. As always, Stanley could just be. All the compulsions and obsessions that Stanley had that were beyond his control were just little things that made Bill love him even more. Stanley got another towel and dried Bill off too; Bill nuzzled against the softness of the fabric and of the touches. Stan carried him in his arms to their bed. As Stanley held him, Bill felt safe, and warm. And hopeful too. He knew tomorrow would be better, somehow the steady beat of Stan’s heart he could hear was reassurance of that fact. And yes, it was a fact. Because with Stan, good days were a certainty. Stanley laid him down on the bed softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he turned to leave him be. “Come to bed with me,” Bill said in a raspy voice against the softness of the pillow he laid on. That was an offer he couldn’t refuse. He walked over to their dresser and grabbed pyjamas from his side and Bill’s side. He slid the sweater over his head and pulled his arms, and put his flannel pyjama pants on two legs at a time. He checked to make sure the drawstrings were even, and was happy when he saw they were. He took the ones for Bill and walked over to his side of the bed. He grabbed Bill gingerly and slid his soft pyjama pants up his leg, “Arms up,” Stanley whispered gently, and Bill raised both arms. That would make it a lot easier for him to help him put his oversized shirt over his head and arms through the sleeves that frayed at the end. It was an old The Cure shirt from college, it had holes all over it. And, had faded stains of paint on it, Stanley observed fondly. Bill hardly had time to paint or draw anymore, but in college that’s how he would take his mind off a lot of things. Bill felt so tired, and so taken care of. He muttered a thank you, and laid back down. “Stanley.....” He called again, he needed him next to him. His voice raspy from exhaustion and from all the moaning from earlier. Stan laughed, and rolled into bed at his lovers call. His heart fluttered at the sound of his name on his husband’s lips as it always did, ever since they were young. “Hi,” he said, smiling lovingly, “Hi...” Bill smiled back, he struggled to keep his eyes open. He kept exhumation at bay as he said one last thing before he went to sleep. “I feel a lot better... not as stressed. I even have some ideas for the next chapters... thank you Stan...” He thanked quietly, “Anything I can do to help,” He replied. “Good night,” Bill said happily, saying nothing more as he closed his eyes and ended his day. “Good night,” Came his warm reply, leaning over to kiss his forehead, a smile appeared on Bill’s relaxed face that stayed with him long after he fell asleep. And Stanley smiled fondly at his lover. He pulled him closer and held his hand as Bill rested his head on his shoulder. He traced circles onto his hand with his thumb as he admired Bill. The best part of going to sleep every night was knowing that he would wake up beside Bill, and he was going to do so for the rest of his life. He could trace patterns along his skin as the morning light danced in their room as it peered through the blinds, and the warm Georgia air eased the room. And he would be able to do so forever.

**Author's Note:**

> in summary, stanley uris is not dead!! if you don’t see him at ur local atlanta accounting firm he’s not dead he’s just on vacation with his darling husband bill denbrough!! or as of right now, in quarantine with his darling husband bill denbrough


End file.
